mself in
the private apartment of De Secqville, awaiting his return.

While there, the servant brought in the pencil-note on which so much
depended.

"It must be intended for monsieur," said the man presenting it upon his
salver, "for the messenger says it comes from Madame Le Prun."

"Hey!--ha!--let us see! Ten thousand devils, what is this?"

He read--

"Relying upon your professions of devotion, I implore of you to deliver
me from a prison as terrifying as that of which my husband was the
jailer. The messenger, a little boy whom fortune has sent to me, will
conduct you to this spot. I know not the name of the street, nor of the
hotel. In the name of heaven lose not a moment!

"LUCILLE."

Monsieur Le Prun descended the stairs, and was in the street in a
second.

"Well, garcon, here I am--I've got the note--conduct me to the place."

"Ha, ha! then you are--the marquis?"

"To be sure I am. Here, boy, take this, and lead on."

He gave him a piece of money, and, following his little guide, Le Prun,
in less than half an hour, reached the spot from which he had started.

"Bon jour, madame. I hope you have recovered the fatigue of your night's
journey. You see I lose no time in hastening to bid you welcome."

So cried Monsieur Le Prun, with a sardonic grin upon his pale face, as
he bowed to the horror-stricken girl, who still occupied the little
window, where she expected so different an image.

She fled from this spectre as if she had seen the Evil One incarnate.
Flying wildly through the passages and chambers of the deserted house,
she found herself on a sudden in an apartment furnished like an office,
with shelves, desks, &c., and here Blassemare was sitting among a pile
of papers. He started on seeing her, and she exclaimed:

"Monsieur Le Prun has seen me--he will be here in a moment."

"_Here!_--where is he?"

"He saw me in the window, and spoke to me with furious irony from the
street. For God's sake, hide me. I feel that he will kill me."

"Hum!--so. Gad, he _will_ be here in a moment. I must meet him boldly--I
have nothing for it but impudence. A few fibs, and, if the worst should
come, my sword. But don't be frightened, madame, he shan't hurt _you_."

Blassemare proceeded to the court, awaiting the advent of his incensed
patron.

XVI.--THE WOMAN IN FLANNEL.

We must now, with the reader's leave, follow Gabriel to Paris, where he
arrived fully three hours later than the fugitive corteg